


Demons Don't Cry

by victory_cookies



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutilation, Torture, there's minimal gore but still, this felt too long for the drabbles to I'm posting it separately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victory_cookies/pseuds/victory_cookies
Summary: Crowley has gotten himself into a... bad situation.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Demons Don't Cry

Crowley didn’t know how long he’d been trapped in the church for.

The constant burn of the consecrated ground beneath him made his feet sting and his body ache. His mind felt fuzzy, and he slumped forward, as he had many times over his imprisonment, tired and weak.

A voice boomed from the other end of the room. “Demon, do not move.”

Footsteps began to approach him. Slowly, he looked up and saw a priest approaching where he was bound.

The priest smiled cruelly as he came to stand in front of Crowley. “Can you feel God’s wrath upon you now, demon? Does it burn you?”

Crowley bared his teeth in a grin. “Feels rather like a nice sauna, actually,” he managed, voice cracking slightly from disuse. “I could get used to it.”

The priest laughed coldly. “Well, that’s unfortunate for you, then, as you will soon be gone from this world. I will see to that.”

“What are you going to do? Try to exorcise me again?” Crowley leaned backwards, cocking an eyebrow. “Use your faith to drive me out, oh holy father? Because that worked so _very_ well last time.”

Silence filled the church for a moment, then a grin slowly spread across the priests face and he looked into Crowley’s eyes. His expression alone made Crowley jerk away.

“I’m going to make you writhe in pain for your sins, demon, and see how long you last.”

* * *

Like most demons, Crowley kept his wings well-groomed. He was rather proud of how well he cared for them, keeping his feathers glossy and smooth, making sure that everything looked elegant and proper.

And pride was a sin, he knew. It all worked out nicely.

After a while in the church, though, his wings no longer looked so nice. His feathers were ruffled and bent, a few of them scattered on the floor, leaving gaps in the plumage where they once had been nestled. He couldn’t preen nor wash them, and he would often stare at them, his growing annoyance the only thing keeping him from complete boredom.

Then the priest assured him that he’d no longer have to worry about the sorry state of his wings, though. In fact, he wouldn’t have to worry about his wings at all! They wouldn’t be a problem anymore, oh no…

Crowley could feel the sharp edge of the knife as it dug into where his wing connected to his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, eyes watering as the blade sliced deeper and deeper, blood dripping down his back. His bound hands clenched, and he wished desperately that he could be somewhere else, somewhere where his wasn’t trapped by some holy power, where he could ruthlessly kill the people at his back that kept him pinned for what they were doing.

“You’ll… pay… for this…” he forced through bared teeth, writing.

Then the pain in his back intensified tenfold, and the wind left him as he blacked out.

* * *

He awoke to a relentless, searing pain in his back.

The priest and a few others stood in front of him. “Demon, it is now that you shall be banished back to hell.”

Crowley laughed mirthlessly, his eyes empty. “How? Are you going to yell holy names at me and wave a candle around again? Because you should know by now that that doesn’t work.”

The priest held up a small chalice. “Then how about holy water? That must do something…”

Crowley jerked up in concern, cringing as his back throbbed. “Holy water?” His brow furrowed nervously, but he forced a smug smile. “Pointless. It would take… a goddamned _miracle_ for you to get me out of here.”

The priest and the others began to approach Crowley. “Well, perhaps the Lord will grant us one tonigh—”

Suddenly, the doors at the front of the church swung open, and pure white light began to pour into the room.

“Kneel before me, o’ servants of the Lord!”

In the doorway stood a winged silhouette, light swirling around him so brightly that Crowley had to squint.

The churchpeople fell to their knees in reverence, bowing.

The angel began to walk towards them. “What in the name of the Almighty is going on?” he asked.

The priest looked up, still in a deep bow. “We have captured a demon, O’ Holy One, and we were about to douse it in holy water to banish it back to hell!”

The light around the angel faltered for a second. “Well now, I, uh, I don’t think that that will be necessary… for I shall deal with this demon myself! He is, uh, very wily and cunning, and I would, uh, it would be unfortunate if he were to use his silver tongue upon you.”

The priest bowed deeper. “Of course, Your Holiness.”

Crowley rolled his eyes.

The angel walked over to him and untied his bindings. “Now, come with me, you foul fiend. It is time for me to, uh, escort you back to the eternal fire where you belong.” He then dragged Crowley out of the church, slamming the doors shut behind them.

* * *

Once they were safely outside, he tucked his wings away and looked at Crowley. “Are you alright, dear?”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah, I… I’m fine. Thanks for the help, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s go back to my place to get you cleaned up, and perhaps get you a cup of tea.”

* * *

Soon enough, they were back at Aziraphale’s. Crowley sat down on a couch, his entire body fatigued and sore from the whole ordeal. He tried to ignore his back, though. He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t.

“I’ll go make you some tea,” Aziraphale said.

Then Crowley was alone. He leaned forward and rubbed his eyes, swallowing dryly.

As the minutes ticked by, the pain in his back seemed to multiply. There was an aching emptiness about it that made him want to curl up into a ball. Eventually, it became overwhelming, the memory sitting at the forefront of his mind, and his eyes began to sting. He buried his face in his hands.

Aziraphale walked back into the room holding a cup of tea on a saucer. He set it down gently, then looked up at Crowley. “And there is your t— oh, are you alright, Crowley?”

Crowley shook his head, not looking up.

The angel sat down beside him. “Do you want to talk about it?” He moved to place a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, trying to rub it gently.

Crowley ripped his shoulder away, head whipping up. “No, don’t touch me…” he croaked.

Aziraphale looked concerned and shocked. “Crowley, did something happen?”

The demon didn’t speak for a moment, and then slowly pulled off his jacket. “My wings, angel…” he whispered shakily. “They cut off my wings.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in horror. He was aghast. “They cut…?” He couldn’t finish.

Crowley shifted to let Aziraphale see his back. “It hurt so much…” he admitted weakly.

Aziraphale’s face paled as he looked at the damage done. Where Crowley’s wings once were, there were only two small lumps, flesh still raw and mangled around the bone. 

“Oh, Crowley…” he whispered.

Crowley let out another shaky breath. “Don’t worry, I’m alright—” His voice broke on the last syllable.

Aziraphale pulled him in tightly, careful to avoid the wounds. “Crowley… there could be a chance that I could miracle them back… if I just—”

“Don't—” There were tears rolling down Crowley’s cheeks now. “It’ll be too much, and you and I both know it. It’s not worth it, angel…”

Aziraphale swallowed. “Then…” He waved his hand, and the wounds healed over quickly.

Crowley couldn’t keep himself from sobbing as he realized what Aziraphale had done. He leaned into the angel’s shoulder, shaking.

“Fuck… gah, Aziraphale, demons don’t cry…” he managed through his tears.

Aziraphale squeezed his arm comfortingly. “It’s alright, Crowley…” He then bit his lip, surprising a smile. “And not to worry… you were already a rather poor demon anyways.”

Crowley let out a half-sob, half-laugh. His tears began to slow, and he looked up at Aziraphale gratefully. “I guess I wasn’t, was I?”


End file.
